Switching
by triedunture
Summary: Wherein boys switch bodies and hilarity ensues. ClarkLex


Clark opened his eyes warily. Another week, another evil mutant dealt with. It seemed that meteor rocks had a knack for turning the citizens of Smallville into power-hungry, vengeance-seeking monsters. Or maybe, Clark thought, the citizens were that way to begin with, and the meteors just added that dash of excitement to make it happen.

In this case, the dash had been given to Tad Williams, a normal enough looking kid. That is, until he developed the skill to charge objects with a freaky green power, turning everything from pebbles to the Kent family truck into one big kryptonite explosion.

That had been fun. More fun than sticking kryptonite in my eye, thought Clark, gingerly raising himself off the ground. That last explosion had been huge, but Tad was nowhere in sight and Lex was...

"Lex!" Clark called out, shocked at how rough his voice sounded. How sore his leg felt. Sore?

And then, it didn't seem important because Clark was staring at himself, face-to-alien face. Oh no, Clark thought, fighting the sinking feeling in his belly. Please don't let me have a creepy double. Not this week.

"Clark?" his double said slowly. "Clark, what happened to us?"

Clark looked down at his sore (broken?) leg, a leg encased in finely tailored slacks, a leg that was a little too short to be Clark Kent's. Clark slowly lifted his shaking hand to touch the top of his head, encountering nothing but smooth scalp.

Clark did what any brave young man would do and fainted.

When Clark came to, he had a good view of the Luthor mansion's ceiling. For one second, he didn't remember Tad Williams or the fight on the docks or the huge green explosion. For one second, life was sort of okay. Then Clark sat up and looked down at his body: slimmer, paler, and a little more vulnerable than he was used to. And life went right back to sucking.

"Good, you're awake," his own voice floated to his ears. Clark looked over to see his own flannel-clad body folded into a leather armchair next to the fireplace. "Or should I say, I'm awake."

"Lex?" Clark looked down at his hands. Calluses. Not a stitch of hair. "Please tell me we died in that explosion."

"And hell is being trapped in my body?" Lex smirked, and Clark thought it looked weird on his own face. "Thanks a lot, Clark."

"You seem to be taking this awfully well!" Clark shot up from his spot on the sofa and paced across Lex's office. "Does this sort of thing happen a lot in Metropolis or something?"

"Panic will not help this situation." Lex stood carefully and stoked the ashy fire. "We have to look at this rationally."

"Rationally?" Clark sucked in his breath as pain shot up his leg. "I think your stupid chicken leg is broken."

"Chicken leg?" Lex bristled. "What about your ridiculously large hands?" He held them up defensively. "How do you even pick things up, you simian monstrosity?"

"How do you reach things on the top shelf?" Clark growled, running a hand over his bare scalp.

"Bet I know what you're really missing. Oh, yeah." Lex dug his fingers into what used to be Clark's dark curls. "Haven't been able to do that in ages."

"Leave my hair alone!"

"Would you just calm down!" Lex slammed his fist against the mantle. It fell onto the floor. Onto his foot.

There was a long moment of silence while Lex extricated his boot from the chunks of marble. Clark swallowed hard, watching his old face contort from confusion to dawning realization.

"I take it," Lex said slowly, "that can't be blamed on shoddy workmanship."

"Let me see if I have everything," Lex said, feeling Clark's leg carefully. "Strength, speed, able to see through anything--"

"Except lead," Clark mumbled, slumped in Lex's desk chair, watching Lex check for any broken bones.

"It looks fine, just bruised." Lex rolled the slacks back in place. "Why lead?"

"It's like an X-ray."

"Oh. That's...so, X-ray vision, fire vision--"

"It's more like heat vision," Clark corrected. "Fire doesn't come out of my eyes, just extreme heat that can set things on fire. Be very, very careful with it."

"Okay, all of that. Anything else I need to know before I take this out for a test drive?" Lex stood and patted his stomach.

"Lex, you can't! I've kept this a secret for years and you cannot blow it."

Lex looked like he was about to say something when the office door slammed open and Lionel Luthor strode in. Clark's (Lex's? He was Lex now, wasn't he?) eyes widened, looking over to Lex, whose face said it all. Don't panic. Don't scream. Most importantly, don't leave. Clark shifted in the leather chair, trying to look Lex-like behind the glass desk.

"Good evening, Lex. Clark." Lionel nodded to his son before turning back to Clark. "Son, I hope you've made a decision about the Butler project."

"Of course I have, Dad." Clark grimaced at that word in his mouth. Behind Lionel's back, Lex was motioning with his hands, making a pair of legs out of two fingers and walking them across the air.

"I've decided to...run with it," Clark said slowly. Lex gave him a thumbs-up before locking his thumbs together and flapping his hands like a bird. "I think it'll really soar. The stock, I mean."

"Well, I hope you have the analysis to back this up. It's going to be a huge undertaking," Lionel sighed, lightly tapping his driving gloves against the edge of Lex's desk. God, Clark thought, how do they go two minutes without killing each other?

"I'll have my people get the information over to your office in the morning, if you feel the need to look it over," Clark said, trying to imitate that snarky voice Lex used when dealing with Lionel. He quickly steepled his fingers under his chin like Lex always did.

"That will have to do, I suppose." Lionel turned and nodded to Lex again on his way out the door.

"Does my father always look at you like that?" Lex asked, leaning against the pool table.

"Pretty creepy, isn't it? Do you think he noticed anything was wrong?" Clark got up from the chair and walked a few steps, wincing at the pain in his leg.

"If he did, he'd just chalk it up to my usual incompetence." Lex smirked, and Clark thought his face looked like it was getting used to it. "Clark, it seems that we have to pull a Prince and the Pauper here. We have to switch lives as long as we switch bodies."

"What? No! I can't do that all day long like you do." Clark gestured towards the desk where his small skirmish with Lionel had taken place.

"Listen, if Lex Luthor, and I mean bald, size 34 waist Lex Luthor, isn't around to run this company, it will go under and thousands of people in this town will lose their jobs." Lex grabbed Clark by the shoulders, and for the first time, towered over him both in comportment and stature.

"You wear a 34?" Clark shook his head to clear it. "Can't we just tell people about the accident? It's not like weird things have never happened here."

"Money is in an image, Clark. Maybe you haven't noticed, but I have a fairly recognizable face. That's this company's asset. No offense, but if I were to show up on CNN looking like this," he gestured to the flannel shirt and jeans, "LuthorCorp would tank in the time it takes to say body snatcher.'"

"Well, what am I supposed to do? I don't know anything about running a business," Clark said.

"You'll do fine. Just sign some papers and shake some hands until we figure out how to reverse this thing."

"And what will you do in the meantime?" Clark scowled.

"Live the fabulous life of Clark Kent, of course." Lex flashed him that damn smirk again. Clark hoped that, when he got his body back, the smirking didn't stick.

"Lex, wake up! It's time for chores."

Lex rolled over in Clark's squeaky bed and looked at the clock. First of all, how did a guy so big sleep in a bed this size? Secondly, it was 5:30 in the morning. What could possibly need attention now as opposed to, say, 10:15?

"Cows need tending, fields need plowing, fences need mending," the cheery voice of Martha Kent seemed to shout in his ear. "Come on, Lex. You're as bad as Clark."

"Clark?" Lex searched his sleep-fogged memory for a likely reason to be in Clark's bed at this time in the morning. A few good ones sprang to mind until he remembered what had happened. Well, at least Martha seemed to be taking it in stride.

Of course Clark and Lex had to tell the Kents what had transpired last night. There was too much at stake to not tell them, and Lex was certain that he couldn't trick Clark's parents into thinking he was their adorable son. Jonathan Kent had said two things before going to bed early:

1.This is a mess.

2.Don't think you're not going to earn your keep, young man.

Martha had seemed reasonable and patient. She was more worried about Lex having found out Clark's secret than the body switching.

"I know we'll think of something," she had said, kissing Clark on his forehead. "My poor baby." Lex got a surreal look of what it would have been like had he been raised by the Kents, loved despite his looks.

"And you," Martha said, shaking Lex out of his thoughts. "You've had a long day. Why don't you get some rest?" And she sent him to bed with a kiss to his forehead, which shouldn't have made him feel like a thief, but it did.

Getting ready for bed had been a challenge. Clark had shown him his bedroom, and got some pajamas out for him.

"I guess you have to change at some point. I hadn't thought about that," Clark said, his ears turning a light pink. Lex couldn't remember the last time his face had blushed. "I won't peek," Lex promised. "I can shower with the lights off."

"No, I don't want you to slip and fall. You'd-" Clark stopped, shrugging sadly. "I keep forgetting."

"Clark." Lex took the pajamas from his hands and set them aside on the tiny bed. "Thank you for watching out for me all those times. It means a lot." He smiled, more like Clark's old smile instead of the smirk. "There's no one I'd rather have taking care of my body."

"Same here," Clark said. "I'm sorry I said you had chicken legs."

"I'm sorry about the ape joke." Lex clapped him on the back. "Now go back to the mansion and play Luthor for a couple of days. It's not so bad. Just tell the staff if you want anything. I swear to you, I will figure out how to fix this."

"Lex! I fixed you pancakes! Get out of bed."

Right. Morning, thought Lex. I'm a Kent now.

Morning, thought Clark. Where the hell does Lex keep his underwear? Somewhere in the massive closet, Clark had managed to piece together an outfit of gray pants and a lilac shirt. It looked like something Lex would normally wear. And he'd even found socks and shoes and a belt, all of them seeming to match. But there wasn't a pair of underwear to be found. No boxers, no briefs, not even some weird European underwear. Did Lex just not wear any underwear? How the hell did he sit through meetings, knowing he didn't have any underwear?

Clark tried on the clothes sans undergarments and found out exactly how itchy wool could be. Maybe Lex was into this sort of thing. Or maybe Clark was just freaking out over this so he could take his mind off the fact that, hello, new penis. He really was trying not to look. He went to the bathroom with his eyes closed, changed with his gaze to the ceiling, tried to concentrate on the tile in the shower. Clark had never realized how much time a person spends exposed.

Whatever. Just get some breakfast and go to the office. Practice Lex's signature. Practice writing left-handed. Clark wandered down to the kitchen he knew so well and fumbled around in the cabinets for bread.

"Sir?" The head of the house staff, Marie, poked her head through the door. "What are you doing?"

"Making toast," Clark said.

"I didn't know you'd be up so early! Is the intercom broken? I could have brought you something." She frantically started rummaging through the refrigerator. "I can make you an omelet, or some eggs Benedict, or maybe a little-"

"Toast is fine," Clark said, popping two slices in the toaster, rubbing at his sleep-crusted eyes. "Do you want any?"

"Sir..." Marie slowly closed the fridge door. "Maybe you should call in sick today." She cocked her head and regarded him thoughtfully. "And maybe you would like me to get you your black belt to go with your black shoes."

Clark looked down at his brown belt and sighed. They had all looked black to him.

"Is there any more hay left in this hemisphere?" Lex asked, heaving the last bale into place. "Because I think that was the last of it."

"No, that's it." Jonathan dusted off his gloved hands, ignoring Lex's sarcasm. "A little behind schedule this morning, but that's to be expected."

Lex grimaced. It had taken him some time to get used to Clark's speed. Jonathan hadn't wanted him to use it at all, but Martha once again came to his rescue during breakfast.

"Let him try, Jonathan. He just wants to help, and you know how much easier it is when Clark-"

"He's not Clark," Jonathan had said. "Clark understands his abilities and knows how to control them. Lex is like a, a, a kitten trying to drive a semi."

Lex resisted the urge to meow.

"All the more reason for Lex to practice, so he doesn't have any accidents," Martha pointed out. "You'll do fine. Just take it slow," she said to Lex, sliding another tray of muffins out of the oven. She had handed them to Lex without even thinking, and Lex had jerked away from the heat before he remembered he could handle them. He took the tin out of Martha's mitten-covered hand, grinning to himself.

"See? It's not so bad," Martha said, shooing them out into the fields.

The hard labor didn't hurt Lex, of course. He wasn't out of breath or sore, but it was difficult to concentrate when Jonathan Kent is glaring at you in slow motion. Running across a field at top speed was worth it.

"You better go get ready," Jonathan said, walking back to the house with Lex.

"Ready?" Lex echoed.

"For school. That other thing that Clark does in his spare time," Jonathan said gruffly.

Clark was exhausted. Being Lex was tougher than he'd thought. First the clothes, then Marie, and now the stupid signature. The muscles in Lex's left hand remembered how to hold a pen, but Clark was having a hard time telling them how to do it. Lex's new signature looked like it had been through a wood chipper. Clark looked at the old copy Lex had given him and sighed. He'd never make his handwriting look that nice.

There was a knock on the office door. Glad for the distraction, Clark called, "It's open."

"Mr. Luthor." A young woman with a heavy accent stepped into the office. She opened her briefcase on the desk and shuffled through some papers. "I assume you're ready for my presentation?"

"Yes, I have a moment," Clark leaned back in his chair. This part was kind of nice. Being powerful, but in a different way than he was used to.

The woman nodded. "If you'd like to fulfill your end of the bargain now, my calendar is clear for the next hour."

"That sounds...fine," Clark said, pausing when she began unbuttoning her blouse. Breasts? In Lex's office? Clark had never considered this particular obstacle, and he really didn't want to. Ever. "You know what?" Clark squeaked, leaping from the desk and rushing her out the door. "I just remembered I have a dentist appointment."

Lex wandered through the halls of Smallville High, glancing at Clark's schedule. Shop, gym, engineering lab, credit hours at the Torch...did Clark take any real classes? Oh yes, advanced economics. That should be fun. Now, how to get there?

"Hey Clark!" Chloe called out through the busy hall. "Where you headed? We have class in five."

Lex turned and smiled. "Sorry, guess my head's in the clouds."

"That's a big change." Chloe smiled back, but her face fell as she stared at something over Lex's shoulder.

"What?" Lex turned around, only to be faced by an angry-looking boy in a basketball jersey. My god, Lex thought, what do they feed these kids? They're all huge.

"Hey Kent, nice shirt. Your mom pick it out for you?"

"Probably," Lex said, eyeing the flannel with a little distaste as well.

"Are you being a smart ass?" The kid actually advanced on him. Didn't he see that Clark wasn't exactly a lightweight?

"Clark, what are you doing? Steven is going to kill you," Chloe hissed in his ear.

"I can take care of him, Chloe," Lex said, wondering how hard Clark could hit without killing someone. He should have practiced that this morning.

"Lex! Good to see you," Chloe exclaimed, gripping the real Lex by the arm. "Let's go see what Lex wants, shall we? You and Steven can finish up your manly staring contest later."

"Actually, Chloe, I need to talk to Clark for a minute." Fake being Lex, Clark thought. Smile a little, not too much. Chloe seemed to buy it, and after glaring at Clark' one last time, jogged off to class.

"What are you doing here?" Lex asked, seeing the hallway empty quickly."Long story. What are you doing picking fights with Steven Larson in the halls?" Clark growled, sticking his hands in his black trench pockets.

"I wasn't picking fights. He started it."

Clark sighed. "Lex, you're 22 years old."

"Maybe your teenage hormones are affecting me," Lex grumbled. "What's that guy doing messing with you anyway? You could snap his neck like a pixie stick."

"But he doesn't know that," Clark hissed. "You can't use my powers just to show up some guy at school."

"So you just let people walk all over you? Really, Clark." Lex snorted.

"At least I don't include sexual favors in business deals!"

Lex's face looked blank for one moment, then changed to understanding. "Oh, was that today?"

"Yes, that was today! Lex, I can't do this. I can't be you. I can't make toast without getting yelled at, women are taking their clothes off, and I don't have any underwear!"

"Clark?" Pete Ross said, standing warily behind a locker.

"What!" Both men turned and yelled.

"So, how long have you guys been in each others' bodies?" Pete asked, rocking back on the chair legs. They were sitting in the Torch office. With Chloe in class, they had a little privacy there.

"Since last night. Remember Tad Williams?" Clark made a blow-up motion with his hands. "Boom."

"It is so weird to see Lex Luthor talk like that," Pete chuckled.

"He is not Lex Luthor," Lex groused. "Just like I'm not Clark Kent. We've already established how bad we are at being each other. I can't go ten minutes without accidentally X-raying something." He pointed menacingly at Clark. "What is that in your stomach, anyway? Please tell me you didn't eat fish."

"Where's Tad?" Pete asked, ignoring Lex.

"Not sure. I think he might have been killed in his last big blast," Clark said, toying with one of Chloe's fuzzy pens.

"Well, if he's still alive, maybe another kryptonite kaboom will set things right again. Things seem to work that way in movies," Pete suggested.

"We are not trying that," Lex said.""It was a miracle I wasn't badly hurt in the first blast. We're not going a second round and risk hurting Clark."

"Lex, it wasn't a miracle. It was just me, shielding you," Clark said, ducking his head. "Probably how the switch happened."

"Awesome, so we just have to find Tad and do the same exact thing," Pete said. "In the meantime, Clark, how about you do a bunch of crazy things and I'll sell the pictures to the Daily Planet?"

"No," both men said in unison.

"C'mon, who doesn't want to see Lex Luthor doing the Macarena?"

The school day was finally over, and Lex decided to run over to the mansion to see if Clark was faring any better since the morning. It was such a rush to super-speed down the old country roads. Better than a luxury car. Lex couldn't help but think he had gotten the better end of the body switching deal. Clark's body was something to behold.

In more ways than one.

"Cool it," Lex muttered to himself, though the sound was lost to the wind.

He'd tried hard to keep his promise about not peeking. His self-control lasted until 2 a.m. when he woke up in Clark's tiny bed with the largest erection of his life. Honestly, how Clark got anything done with that thing just sitting around...but Lex decided it was none of his business. Just a normal young man's bodily reaction, although Clark' and normal' didn't exactly go hand in hand. But yes, Lex had looked, touched just a little. Thought of it as a project to be completed until it was, well, complete.

Lex was at the mansion much too fast. He found Clark stretched out on the sofa in the office, his feet on the coffee table.

"What, were you born in a barn?" Lex joked, nudging his feet with the toe of his boot. Clark didn't seem to be in the joking mood.

"Do you have any idea how many phone calls I had today?" He massaged his temples with his hands.

"Yes, I do. Do you have any idea who I got you a date with?" Lex smirked.

"What?" Clark shot upright. "You can't go out on a date in my body."

"Why not? Kelly in your lab seems to like you, and she asked, so I said yes." Lex took the chair across the coffee table and put his feet up where Clark's had been.

"Kelly? She's been bugging me to go out with her for weeks," Clark said. "I told her I wasn't interested."

"She's persistent, then. I'm taking her out for coffee, apparently. I mean, is there anything else but the coffee shop and corn fields?" Lex crossed his feet at the ankles. "Do you think Lana will be angry?"

"Yes. No. Maybe, depends on the day of the week. But I don't want to go out with Kelly." Clark kicked his patent leather shoes off and started working on the socks. His feet were aching.

"You don't have to. I will." Lex raised an eyebrow in a way Clark thought looked too suggestive.

"You," he pointed at Lex, "are not. Allowed. To sleep with Kelly."

Clark watched his old face turn into a stone mask more suited to a Luthor. "Of course, that's what I do. I'm only out to take advantage of women, right, Clark?"

"Well, yeah! What about the woman that came to the office today? She just started undressing right there in front of me."

"She was an artist, Clark. One of my many charities," Lex said, keeping his voice firm. "If you had waited two minutes, you would have seen a Slovakian woman in a leotard doing what I hear is some exquisite modern dance. I had promised her I'd watch her routine. She wanted funding. Not sex." He paused, toying with the idea of having a drink. "At least, I don't think she wanted sex."

"Oh. Sorry, Lex. I didn't think, I-" Clark sighed, trying to push his hand through his nonexistent hair. "Could you just not go on this date with Kelly? I hear she's...persistent in a lot of ways." There it was, those ears turning pink again.

"Really?" Lex laughed. "Well, maybe that's just what this body needs."

"No, it doesn't. That body does not need..." Clark sighed.

Lex looked at Clark, which was kind of like looking at a weird version of himself. Slumped shoulders, pained lines around his eyes, like Clark was going to cry.

"You're a virgin," Lex said finally. "How?"

"What do you mean, how?" Clark sounded defensive.

"Have you seen yourself, Clark?" Lex reached up and touched his face, touched Clark's face, running his fingertips along sharp cheekbones, across full lips. "This is you, Clark. Maybe I'm just not used to it, but it seemed like everyone was staring at me today. At you, in a good way. Eyes, ears, nose, all of it. And you know how I feel about this." Lex tugged at the soft black curls. "So how does it happen that you still blush, Clark?"

"I don't know," Clark said softly, unconsciously reaching out to touch his face, to touch Lex's face. The regal nose, the delicate mouth where delicate things did not live. The pale skin leading into the small, well-formed ears. "Maybe I was scared. Of hurting somebody."

Lex's vision went all X-ray for a moment, and he saw inside his own body, inside Clark. He caught a glimpse of a racing heart.

"Here," Lex said, super-speeding without realizing it to Clark's side. "Don't break anything of mine. I want it all back in working order." And he wrapped his arms around Clark and held him, Clark's back against his chest. Except it was his own back against Clark's borrowed chest. Lex decided not to think about it too much anymore. Right now, it didn't matter who was who or what was which.

"Lex, I-" Clark turned in the circle of Lex's arms, and Lex took a look at Clark's lips, at his own lips, and though he'd dreamed of Clark's own full lips a million ways, he wondered why he'd never noticed his own.

Was it sick to be thinking these things? Lex didn't care and took the offered kiss. He tasted like cinnamon, Clark, like mint, except all flipped but it didn't matter.

Clark gasped for air much later, a small smile on his lips. "Wow, I'm not a bad kisser."

Lex grinned, and was about to show Clark all the other things he was when a tattered Tad Williams came bursting through the wall of the castle.

"Ready for payback, Kent?" Tad roared, picking up a stone. Clark watched it turn a sickly green.

So not my day, Clark thought.

Clark opened his eyes warily for the second time. The explosion had rocked the castle, and it felt like he was buried under some kind of debris. Moment of truth, he thought to himself and pushed. Stone, glass and plaster slid off like nothing. He put his hand to the back of his head and felt the thick hair there.

"Oh, thank Jesus," Clark sighed. He spun around. "Lex!"

Lex was right behind him, of course, where Clark had been moments before the blast. Lex had shielded him without a second's thought. It felt strange to be the rescued one, after all this time. At the moment, Clark's new hero was holding his head while trying to gain his footing.

"Clark," Lex groaned. "Do you think we can go one week without this kind of thing?"

"You okay?" Clark looked at the cut on Lex's brow, but it wasn't deep. "What happened to Tad?" A quick glance around the destroyed office yielded the answer: a pair of Reeboks stuck out from under a heavy support beam.

"Is he dead?" Lex asked. "Not that I want him to be, but...no wait, yes I do."

Clark did a quick scan. "No, he's alive. I'll have to speed him over to the hospital." He set to work on lifting the beam.

"Don't suppose I can help?" Lex asked. He lifted some of the smaller chunks of debris covering Tad. "You know, as much as I liked being in your body, I..."

"I agree," Clark said quickly, with a small smirk. "You wear yours better, too."

"So, what was the prognosis for our friend Tad, Clark?" Lex asked, striding up the steps to the loft. It was twilight, and he could see faint hints of the sunset out the barn window.

"Meteor rock exposure, surprise, surprise," Clark chuckled from his seat on the couch. "How's the mansion?"

"Stable. The repair crew should be here tomorrow. Until then, it's a little more drafty than I'd like." Lex slid his trench off and folded it over a battered chair.

"You're welcome to stay here," Clark said, "if you want."

"And sleep in your horrible little bed again? I don't think so." Lex grinned and sat down in the space Clark made for him on the couch. "Now if you had a guest room, with perhaps more spacious accommodations..."

"No luck," Clark laughed, shaking his head. "Love me, love my horrible little bed."

"Okay." Lex nodded, almost to himself. "Okay."

Clark dropped his gaze for a moment. "Lex..."

"Clark?"

Clark put his mouth very near Lex's ear. "I'm almost certain you're not wearing any underwear."

"Really?" Lex laughed. "I'm almost certain you're hung like a certain farm animal."

"You looked?" Clark wrapped his arms around Lex's neck playfully. "After you promised you wouldn't."

"It was kind of hard to miss it," Lex said, liking the feel of how gentle Clark was being with him. "You know what, Clark?"

"What?" Clark was busy trying to work his fingers into the waistband of Lex's pants. No underwear encountered yet.

"I think I might love your horrible little bed," Lex whispered, tracing a lock of dark hair with his fingers.


End file.
